Let Her Go
by teh ex pat
Summary: Based on Minimal Loss; slight A/U.  Femslash  if you're offended, you would be dumb to read this , not mine, etc. Feedback appreciated and if you want to archive, just ask.


_If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were_

Emily sank into her bed, flat on her back with her arms stretched to either side. She stared at the ceiling intently, as if to memorize its every crack and contour. She gazed at the bleached plaster until it seemed to stare back; the various movements in its shape were no longer accidents, but features. _Okay_, her inner voice of reason made itself present, _now you're just pathetic_. She raised her lead-heavy arms to her head, raking her fingers through her hair, trying to shake the day's images free from her mind, to no avail. _How could she?_ Didn't she know; _she has to know_. Emily knew she'd been careful, but still… – _careful? You were about as subtle as a freight train_. Her carefulness, or subtlety, or lack thereof was really no longer an issue – either way, it was over and done and she was alone.

JJ lay back, angling her hips to allow him access. He leaned into her, pressing his lips against her neck, whispering sweet nothings. He rested on his elbows, sliding in and out, pressing his chest against her. He was increasing his speed and JJ thought she ought to show some sign of life; she had been utterly still. She moaned softly and when she heard it, though she knew it was her own voice, it had to be, it sounded like it came from someone else. She kept her eyes closed, not out of pleasure. She kept up the moaning, hoping he would believe her. And then it was over and he was panting and she was smiling wanly. He kissed her on the mouth and she swallowed back an urge to pull away. She was so confused; this wasn't right – she knew this wasn't right. But what felt right, that wasn't right either, she had learned today. She had tried, god she had tried, but when she was there, she was finally there, it had proved to be wrong; the one person who could tell her it was wrong had told her and it was over. It was over and now she lay here in bed, in the arms of a man who, by all outward appearances, loved her dearly and she was utterly alone.

Emily thought she ought to try and sleep but her eyes refused to comply. They were wide open, staring at that damn ceiling. She was dead tired but her mind wouldn't stop replaying it over and over again. JJ was standing there, talking to her, of all people, about Will, of all people. Work, relationships, feelings – it was all too similar to a conversation Emily wanted to have with the media liaison… but not. Because JJ was standing there, tongue-tied, stumbling over her words about feelings, not for Emily, but for this man, and Emily, unbeknownst to her, it seemed, her mouth had a vendetta against her heart and she blurted out the first thing she could think of: go. As in "go to him"; as in "leave me, please". As in _what the fuck was I thinking?_ And with that, her mantra for the night, for a lot of nights, actually, Emily drifted off into an uncomfortable sort of slumber.

It didn't make sense, JJ told herself, over and over again. She had what she wanted, exactly what she wanted; she should have been happy. So, when he showed up at work, _her_ work, when he informed the team, _her_ team, that they would be married, JJ thought she just might lose it. Emily was the first to congratulate her, which wasn't a surprise, not at this point. Emily was always the first. When Penelope was shot, when JJ was in the hospital, waiting in the worst kind of way, Emily had been there, holding her hand, just for a second. When she and Reid, and the dogs (she still had nightmares) Emily was there, to pull her back from her newest hell, just for a second. This was the story, the way things between her and Emily worked – Emily was there, equal parts perfect and fleeting. It was something JJ had come to depend on. When she needed Emily most, the brunette agent would be there, come hell or high water, JJ had Emily. But (and this was the only other thing she could count on) just as quickly as she was there, Emily was gone. Whatever the situation, as soon as JJ had regained her bearings, as soon as she was able to stand upright again, she looked for Emily and found her gone. And forget about Emily ever needing her – it hadn't taken that long before JJ gave up, not because she wanted to but because she was so tired of bumping up against walls, of trying only to find her efforts completely futile; Emily was as determined not to need JJ as she was to be there for JJ. And so JJ was, as a result, hesitant to even consider Emily a part of her life, even though she called Emily a friend, the other woman seemed more aptly termed a distant enigma.

Emily woke up; the dim light that fell across her forehead told her it was almost time to get up, time to start the day. She was filled with a profound anhedonia towards the day, towards everything it might hold. It wasn't that she disliked her job, her coworkers, her friends. It was just that, lately she had found it difficult to derive pleasure from anything. She had felt this way before, probably more often then not and it usually led to sabotage of self, relationships, everything. But she couldn't, not this time. She had worked too damn hard for her position, for her _place_ at the B.A.U. to throw it away now, over a little depression. She forced herself to sit up, the sudden movement doing little for the headache that had begun to pound her temples. Her phone rang, jarring her head further; her hand groped clumsily for the offending device.

"H' lo…" She muttered hoarsely into the mouthpiece.

"Emily? Hi, sorry to wake you but it's fairly urgent. I need you in my office as soon as you can possibly be here."

"JJ?" Emily tried (and failed) not to slur her speech. "What's going on?"

"Please hurry, Emily." The blonde's response was curt, though underneath it, Emily heard a sense of foreboding. She mumbled a response before stumbling fully out of bed, towards the shower.

Miraculously it was less than an hour later when she arrived in Quantico. JJ was in her office with Hotch; they both looked somber. Emily paused, looking for the rest of the team, before noticing Reid as he stumbled in after her, looking equally haphazard, equally confused.

"Have a seat." Hotch stated. As Reid and Emily seated themselves, JJ handed them each a small packet. Emily wanted to ask but knew better.

"La Plata, Colorado –" JJ began. "Benjamin Cyrus is the leader of a fringe Libertarian sect; they operate based out of one ranch in this location. Yesterday I received this record of a 9-1-1 call from the local PD…" She hit play on a small recording machine.

Emily listened intently as a female voice crackled over the system. She heard the plea for help and that was it, she was sold. Hotch and JJ explained the rest of the case – she and Reid would be undercover, posing as members of Child Protection Services; Cyrus, it seemed, was prone to intense violence concerning officers of the law and any inkling of an F.B.I. affiliation would without a doubt impede investigation. The rest of the team would fly out later that day, as for she and Reid, they were leaving immediately. They would be further briefed; they were assured, on the plane. Emily felt a sense of excitement that was rather alien. It had been a long time since this rush of anticipation, the adrenaline, had been present for anything. She wasn't, she found, thinking about anything but this case. She even walked past JJ, right past her, and didn't feel anything. She was elated at the thought she might be over the blonde, finally. She knew it was just a crush, just a stupid crush on a coworker, her _straight_ coworker nonetheless. If anything, it was impractical and Emily didn't do impractical. The _practical_ thing to do was to direct JJ towards Will (which she had, she was proud to admit, done) so she could move on (this, she had not quite achieved), and find someone new, someone practical. Besides, there were so many things she didn't like about JJ, so many reasons she shouldn't have feelings for this woman. She hated the way JJ could look at her and see right through all her bullshit barriers, her carefully crafted walls. She hated how JJ was quick to laugh, or smile, especially with her; and god knows, she hated how quickly JJ's smile forced _her_ to smile. She _really_ hated how JJ thought she would be good with kids – all Emily had to do was look one generation back and she saw _exactly_ why she should never have kids – she hated that JJ did not believe this. And god, she fucking hated how JJ could get to her with the softest of touches; how these simple touches started a fire in her that burned for days on end. She hated how JJ had her life so together, she had herself so together, and she, Emily, was a fucking train wreck.

So, okay, she hadn't _really_ stopped thinking about JJ. But, Emily knew, as she stared out the window of the plane, it was only a matter of time, only a matter of time before the Ambassador's Daughter returned, to pull this emotional mess back in, to close whatever doors JJ or anyone else may have begun to open, before Emily was back to herself again. It was only a matter of when.

JJ had to admit, she was scared. She really, really didn't like it when the team had to split up, ever. She _strongly disliked_ the idea of Prentiss and Reid, alone, facing off with a lunatic creep who liked to hurt cops. It wasn't that she didn't face dangers of every shape and form on a daily basis; it was just, despite all the logical arguments against the notion, she still felt like, when she was physically there, she could do _something_ to protect those she loved. But here, in Quantico, while Emily and Spencer were flying off to god-knows-what, she felt helpless. And to top it off, she was hurt. Emily had walked out, stoic as always, giving no thought to how it must have felt for JJ to do this; to send her out like that, on what could be her last assignment; it was morbid, certainly, but JJ found it justified – what if something happened, then, while she had not pulled the trigger, in choosing the case, she would have effectively signed a death warrant. And then, on top of everything else, JJ was angry, angry because they could never know, _Emily_ could never know what this felt like. Emily, with her aloof sophistication, paradoxically integrated with the biggest heart, the softest eyes, the best laugh JJ had ever… _fucking stop it_. JJ hated the times when it seemed as though she'd lost control of her own thought process, as though Emily had infiltrated her brain to the point where the entirety of her mind was focused on this one woman. JJ didn't understand it, and, really, she didn't want to. It wasn't the sexuality component; that didn't concern her. She subscribed to the school of thought that said love is love and the idea that she seemed to have developed feelings for another woman was really no concern of hers. Emily, however, was not just another woman.

When JJ had first seen her, her eager eyes, her thinly veiled anxiety, standing, clutching a box outside of Hotch's office, she had been struck. No "love at first sight" bullshit or anything but, still, JJ was compelled to introduce herself, compelled to encourage Emily to find her, to talk to her. While she was offering of herself, it was quite selfish, JJ thought. She was inexplicably drawn to this woman, after five minutes of seeing her, thirty seconds of talking to her and she had this feeling that the more of Emily she got, the more she would want. This conjecture had proved to be correct in more ways than JJ could have imagined. She had never known any one person could have an effect so profound on her. Every time Emily spoke, JJ found herself clinging to every word that left those lips, taking them and treasuring them. She kept mental records of every interaction between her and the brunette and played the memories, regardless of how insignificant, over and over again. Sometimes just to feel near Emily; other times she dissected them, searching for a sign, anything that could possibly indicate any ounce of her feelings were returned. She always came up empty. And then Will had wormed his way into the picture and at that point JJ was just so tired of being so close and so far to her object of affection and Will flirted and called and really, truly wanted her and, in a twisted way, JJ wanted Will to want her, wanted Emily to see what she was missing. The validation the relationship gave her was certainly not to be underestimated, either. And, god knows, no one wants to die alone. And as soon as she was in it, JJ wanted out and she began to look for ways, reasons why it was too complicated, not worth it – push came to shove and her time with Will had made her just miserable enough to realize she _had_ to try with Emily. She approached the other woman, under the guise of requesting relationship advice and then it happened – Emily encouraged her, pushed her straight into Will's arms and JJ spent the night fighting back bitter tears, wondering over and over _what the fuck was I thinking_?


End file.
